


Debt

by IAmNotOneOfThem



Series: Favours [2]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Dark!Robbie, Deviates From Canon, Elements of Horror, Fae & Fairies, Fairy!Robbie, Horror, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-12 21:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9091663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmNotOneOfThem/pseuds/IAmNotOneOfThem
Summary: A deal in itself, Sportacus knew from the tales, wasn’t that bad, given one carefully drafted out the boundaries before agreeing to whatever the faery offered. Open-ended favours, contracts without clearly defined conditions and clauses, those were what you had to look out for.
Sportacus covered his eyes with an arm and groaned.
His deal had not only been as loose as they could get; he’d practically given the faery a free pass to do as it pleased. 

  
    ‘I’d give you everything.’
  

No limits, no negotiations, nothing.
He might as well have done nothing to repair the crystal and wait until he died; he had signed his own death sentence.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are! I hope I didn't make you wait too long and that you'll enjoy this little story of mine as much as you seemed to like the first part of the series.

The full weight of _what he had just done_ only hit Sportacus later, hours after he returned to the surface.

Playing with the children and rescuing Lazytown’s citizens from whatever dangers they got themselves into had distracted him, but there was nothing they could do once he was lying in his bed, desperately grasping for a sleep that wouldn’t come to him. Here, up in his airship, far above the citizens and their dreams, Sportacus was all alone with his thoughts.

The urge to run back home to his parents and beg for help had never been this strong before, but this wasn't something they could help him with.

Vaguely, Sportacus remembered the stories and warnings of his grandfather; never follow the sound of a violin playing seemingly out of nowhere; avoid wandering through the night; before you mount a horse, say the _names_ ; do not beckon at the stars or speak irreverently of them; leave deep crevices alone, just like certain plots of land, on which one should never set foot; do not knit outdoors in the middle of winter.

One stood out in particular, _Afi_ ’s voice echoing through Sportacus’ mind as he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, ringing in his ears.

_Whatever you do, do not enter into a deal with the fae. You’ll leave with less than what you have arrived with, if anything at all._

There was no doubt in Sportacus’ head that he’d done just that – that the creature underneath the city, right below the children’s feet as they played oblivious to the dangers lurking under the cement and dirt, was a faery. He’d never met one, but everything he knew – which, admittedly, was not much, as the fair folk was even more secretive than elves – pointed towards it. That didn’t make Sportacus’ situation any better, not one bit.

A deal in itself, Sportacus knew from the tales, wasn’t that bad, given one carefully drafted out the boundaries before agreeing to whatever the faery offered. Open-ended favours, contracts without clearly defined conditions and clauses, those were what you had to look out for.

Sportacus covered his eyes with an arm and groaned.

His deal had not only been as loose as they could get; he’d practically given the faery a free pass to do as it pleased.

**_‘I’d give you everything.’_ **

No limits, no negotiations, _nothing_.

He might as well have done nothing to repair the crystal and wait until he died; he had signed his own death sentence.

Sportacus lowered his arm again, blinking against the soft moonlight that fell in through the windows. A look at the clock told him it was half past ten; he had been lying awake for more than two hours by now. He kicked off his blanket and got to his feet, deciding that lying there, doing nothing, wouldn’t help him fall asleep.

The crystal was strangely, eerily, quiet against his chest. There was more than enough material for it to mock him, starting with allowing it to get damaged in the first place and ending with Sportacus _making a deal with a faery_ , but… silence. It didn’t buzz, it didn’t blink; if it hadn’t been for the resonance between Sportacus’ energies and its own, he would have worried it was gone.

Could their crystals die?

They weren’t, strictly speaking, living beings, but still seemed to be alive, to some extent, sentient enough to have a serious attitude problem, in Sportacus’ case.

Sportacus brushed a finger over the casing, relieved when the crystal vibrated faintly against it. The day must have taken a lot out of it as well; its silence might just have been exhaustion or the after-shocks of nearly dying, he couldn’t be sure.

_‘Or the faery did something to it.’_

The moment the thought crossed Sportacus’ mind, he pushed it aside, buried it deep in the depths of his consciousness and vowed to not let it surface again. If he went down that road, there would be no turning back. He had to cling to the hope of everything being alright, or else…

Guided by a mixture of desperation, tiredness and worry that settled low in his stomach and made it cramp, the elf warmed up some milk after doing a quick routine, in hopes of it pushing him over the edge of wakefulness to slumber.

A hundred sit-ups and a cup of milk later, Sportacus was sitting on his bed, painfully awake.

His head fell back on the pillow as he lay down again. With how much he tried _not_ to think about the possibility of the faery messing with him, he sure did a lot of thinking about that. Sportacus blamed it on the strange feeling, like oil on water, that surrounded his crystal, remnants of the faery’s magic. Surround wasn’t the right word; it was as much _part_ of the crystal’s energies as Sportacus’ own life force was. If his own felt blue, then the faery’s influence was purple, leaving a bad taste in Sportacus’ mouth.

For the umpteenth time, he wondered just what he had done.

With that thought in mind, Sportacus slowly fell asleep, a dark, deep laughter echoing in his mind.

 -----------------

The next morning, the hero went down to the children as usual. None of them seemed to notice how tired he was; the yawns he, rather unsuccessfully, tried to suppress or hide behind his hands, the way he was playing less enthusiastically as he normally did. He was glad for their childish obliviousness.

Smiling tiredly, Sportacus watched, perched on top of the wall, as they kicked a ball back and forth. They were so happy; their cheerfulness was contagious, took away some of the edges. But even their laughter couldn’t banish the deep-settled fear and feeling of uncomfortableness in his bones.

He caught himself looking around. From where he was sitting, he could see most of the town, from Ms. Busybody’s garden to the town hall, the individual houses and the tree house. Part of him expected to see a flash of purple, pointed teeth or grey eyes, searched for shadowy tendrils emerging from the manhole covers spread out across the streets, as if, now that he had made a deal with it, the faery would leave its lair and wreak havoc above.

Had the illusion magic hiding the entrance to its home been a cage, meant to keep it locked away safe and sound? Had Sportacus broken it by entering, and had thus set it free?

The thought made him shiver.

Entranced as they were by their game, none of the children noticed Sportacus jump off the wall and _walk_ towards where the entrance was. He had to make sure the magic was still there, had to feel it, just so he could prepare for what might happen. _What he selfishly might have brought upon the town_.

Thankfully, no one was in any danger, so he could go through with his plan. He tried to swallow down the worry that even if someone was, his crystal wouldn’t tell him anymore, but it accompanied him to the entrance of the lair.

Even from afar, he could feel the illusion magic, its energies making the hairs on the back of Sportacus’ neck stand up. There was electricity in the air, like in the aftermath of a thunderstorm. The elf released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding; it was still there, felt exactly like it had the day before. Inspecting it closer, Sportacus reached out, brushed his fingers through the wall that wasn’t really there. The magic wasn’t elven in origin, but resonated with the crystal in a way that made Sportacus assume it was the faery’s own magic upholding the illusion.

Not a cage, then. Why would it want to remain hidden?

“Sportacus!”

The hero turned his head. In the distance, right where he had left them, he saw Stephanie wave at him. He smiled, even though she couldn’t see it, and did a flip over the wall.

Before returning to the children, however, Sportacus looked around, behind him, scanned his surroundings, just to make sure the faery hadn’t appeared out of thin air to kill him. 

"Please. If I wanted you dead you'd already be."


	2. Chapter 2

If anyone ever asked, Sportacus would deny jumping a solid meter in the air and _squealing_ in fear. There were no witnesses; no one would ever be able to prove Lazytown’s hero had nearly have a heart attack.

Only that wasn’t quite true, was it?

The faery, sitting on a bench in front of him as if it hadn’t just materialised out of thin air, gave him a _look_ that was stuck somewhere in the middle between amusement and being unimpressed. “You were looking for me and yet you’re surprised I’m here?”

Sportacus’ ears, thankfully hidden underneath his hat, turned pink. “Yes, but I didn’t expect you to actually _be_ here… wait, how did you know-?”

The faery rolled its eyes. Sportacus suspected it had exactly two moods – annoyed or bored and gleeful – and nothing in between. “I know a lot,” the faery said, waving its hand in a way that surely conveyed something, if one looked closely enough, which Sportacus didn’t. “Even if that wasn’t the case, I could feel your pathetic panic all the way down to my lair.”

Sportacus spluttered. “I wasn’t panicked-“

“You were. Unfounded, by the way. If I wanted you dead, you’d already be.” The fae snorted. “Really, I wouldn’t have bothered to repair that stupid crystal of yours to begin with. Do you know how much _work_ that was? The satisfaction of watching the horror on your face as you realise I’ve tricked you is not worth the trouble of fixing that _thing_.”

Sportacus automatically looked down at his crystal. It vibrated faintly against his chest; he took that as an assurance that it was there and alright, given the circumstances. “Then what do you want in return?”

The question was more loaded than it seemed.

Fae never asked for little things. You gave them an inch and they took a mile, everything you possessed, your firstborn and, occasionally, your life. Though the latter seemed less popular, given its definite and permanent nature. Sportacus had no children and doubted the faery wanted his airship, so he was a little at loss.

The faery gave him that look again, which apparently, Sportacus thought, was its thing. “Why would I tell you that?”

Sportacus stared at it in confusion. “How am I supposed to do what you want if you do not tell me?”

“I’ll tell you in due time.” The fae regarded its fingernails which, Sportacus noted upon closer inspection, were perfectly manicured and slightly purple. “Not now.”

“Then why… what are you doing here?” Sportacus asked. “Did you come all the way up here just to tell me you don’t want me dead?”

He nearly flinched at the pure disdain and disgust he could read in the faery’s eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” it hissed. “There is no way I’d go through all of that just to calm your nerves.”

“Then what is it?”

Before the faery could reply, the sound of footsteps came closer until the children turned around the corner. Belatedly, Sportacus realised they had been waiting for him and had seen him standing here, doing nothing; of course they would come fetch him, and be curious about what he was doing.

Sportacus opened his mouth, but couldn’t force any sound out. A feeling of horror washed over him as he saw the faery’s gaze wander from child to child before settling back on him, blue meeting grey. Sportacus was paralysed.

Then the faery smiled.

It was, hands down, the scariest thing Sportacus had ever seen.

“Sportacus!” Stephanie said, hands on her hips like a mother did when scolding her offspring. “We were calling you, didn’t you hear?”

“Who is that?” Ziggy piped up and suddenly Sportacus’ absence of mind wasn’t all that important anymore. All eyes were on the stranger who, comfortably, leant back on the bench like it owned it.

A thousand thoughts ran through Sportacus’ head. _‘Protect them’_ was, of course, the loudest and most prominent of those, followed by _‘they can’t talk to it, what if-‘_ and _‘I have to make them leave, think of something, think, they can’t-‘_. The rest was an incoherent, incomprehensible mush of emotions and fragments of words that made little sense.

“I’m Robbie.”

Sportacus froze. He turned his head to look the faery in the eye, tried, somewhat desperately, to convey a warning; ‘ _touch them, trick them into favours, and I’ll hunt you down_.’ It didn’t seem to impress… _Robbie_ one bit.

There was no way that name was the faery’s real one. It wouldn’t be reckless enough to give away its _true name_ , especially not around another magic-user.

Names were ancient magic; they were power.

“Hello Robbie!” The children politely greeted, waited a moment or two, then began what Sportacus liked to call their version of an interrogation, lacking only a desk lamp and a one-way mirror.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sitting on a bench.”

“No, what you are doing in town!”

“I just told you. I’m sitting on a bench.”

Either humans were less perceptive to dangers than he had thought or the children didn’t notice their survival and self-preservation instincts scream bloody murder. Stephanie didn’t even hesitate as she leant forward and stuck her finger at the faery. Sportacus held his breath, afraid _Robbie_ would _bite it off_.

But the faery merely raised an eyebrow, completely unimpressed.

“Yes, Pinkie?”

Stephanie tried to mirror _Robbie_ ’s expression. For an eight-year old, it was quite impressive how close she got. “It’s Stephanie,” she corrected, ignoring the faery’s “I don’t care” pointedly. “It’s rude to purposely ignore what a question means! Words have several layers of meaning: An obvious one, but also an implied meaning, like the question we’ve been asking you.”

“Ask me the right question and I’ll give you the answer you seek.” _Robbie_ said with a huff. If Sportacus didn’t know any better – it was a _faery_ – he would almost think it was pouting.

Stephanie sighed, looking, in this moment, like an adult dealing with a petulant child. “Are you new to town?”

 _Robbie_ gave her a short nod, an acknowledgement of her doing as it had said. “No.” Stephanie scowled. The faery scowled back. Stephanie raised an eyebrow and made a gesture. _Robbie_ snorted. “Fine. No, I’m not new to town. I’ve been here longer than you, Pinkie.”

“That can’t be!” Trixie interrupted their staring contest. “We’ve never seen you before.”

For a moment, something dark, otherworldly, flashed across the faery’s face. Sportacus’ muscles tensed in anticipation, every fibre of his being ready to interfere, even though he knew there was nothing he would be able to do. He’d stand little to no chance against a faery’s magic. Take magic out of the equation and he might have been able to win, but even there he wasn’t completely certain; the faery had pulled him close as if Sportacus weighted nothing, indicating immense physical strength.

The children didn’t seem to notice _what_ they were talking to, that the lanky, long-legged man on the bench in front of them was a predator unlike anything their species was prepared to handle, and for once, he cursed their obliviousness and almost naïve outlook on the world.

_‘Could they not see what danger they were in?’_

“That’s because I live underground, Pigtails.” The faery said snidely.

Whatever reservations the children might have had about the stranger – at least, Sportacus hoped there were _some_ , that they subconsciously felt _something_ wasn’t _right_ because if they didn’t, his worry for them would increase a thousand times and he’d never be able to get a good night’s sleep ever again – were gone that instance. Sportacus almost felt sympathetic towards _Robbie_ as the children began bombarding it with questions – where its home was, why it was living underground, whether it had ever seen the _beast_ while down there and many more -- but only almost.

The faery’s pained and annoyed expression nearly made Sportacus forget just what they were dealing with. In that moment, _Robbie_ could have been an ordinary human, not the creature Sportacus had sold himself to down in its lair.

But then he saw glimpses of _power_ vibrating under the human skin and remembered.

“Do you want to play with us, Robbie? We’re an uneven number but if you join then Sportacus can play too!”

The question pulled Sportacus from his thoughts and made him focus on the faery once more. He couldn’t quite remember if he’d ever, in his life, seen someone look as scandalised, personally offended and grossed-out as _Robbie_ did at this moment.

“Why, pray tell, would I want to-“ _Robbie_ stuck its tongue out, as if even saying the word cost it a lot of effort. “ _play_ with you?”

“Because we asked you,” Ziggy said cheerfully.

“Not a good enough reason,” _Robbie_ said with a dismissive wave of its hand. “No, now go away.”

“Why not? It’s lots of fun, even more so when we are six people instead of four!”

“It may be fun for you, but…” The faery paused, then leant forward, a dangerous smile on its lips. Sportacus’ instincts screamed in alarm. “What’s in for me?”

He reacted so fast the children didn’t even have time to process the question. Gently, but firmly, Sportacus stepped in between the group and faery, creating a physical barrier. “Why don’t you go ahead and start, guys,” he said, his eyes on the faery, “I don’t think _Robbie_ appreciates you manhandling him into saying yes. Remember, you shouldn’t force someone to do something they don’t want. That also applies to making someone play when they don’t want to. Maybe another time he’ll say yes!”

While he didn’t turn around to watch them leave, Sportacus could feel them, one by one, turn around and skip off to the playground. Stingy’s exclamation of “But I wanted to offer him to play with **my** soccer ball if he said yes!” grew more and more silent until Sportacus couldn’t hear them anymore.

Only once he was sure they were alone again did Sportacus drop his smile. “If you trap them in a deal, I’ll-“

“Do what, _álfr_?” _Robbie_ asked with a flash of pointed teeth. The air around them grew colder and Sportacus swore he saw shadows moving in the corner of his eyes, a gloomy tension he could feel in his lungs as he breathed in. “There is nothing you can do to stop me, and you know it.” The threatening feeling vanished as quickly as it had come. One moment _Robbie_ ’s face was dark, its mouth filled with rows of shark-like teeth, the next it looked perfectly ordinary again. “Don’t worry, Sportaflop. I won’t _force_ them into anything they don’t _want_.”

Perplexed by the nickname, Sportacus could only blink as the faery stood up in a smooth, elegant movement and strolled away, leaving Sportacus behind to ponder about just what he was supposed to do now.

There was a faery in Lazytown. Not just underground, not anymore, but roaming the streets, a visible presence towering above everyone, both literally and figuratively. Even now, Sportacus felt the remnants of its energy in the air, like an aftertaste, resonating with the new addition to his crystal.

It was his fault _Robbie_ was here now.

He’d brought upon them the greatest danger the town had ever faced.

Sportacus did a backflip, suddenly overcome by the overwhelming urge to _move_. Maybe if he did, he could stop himself from falling into a bottomless pit of panic and despair. Forget that he painted red targets on the children’s back even though he was supposed to protect them.

The elf jumped onto the nearest wall, did a handstand and began doing push-ups. From there, he could see the children play, a small comfort. However, it did little to quench his fears.

_There was a faery in Lazytown._

Sportacus flipped off the wall and landed on his feet. _Robbie_ was nowhere to be seen, but that didn’t mean anything. Faeries could turn invisible, could they not? It could be hiding somewhere, watching and waiting for the right moment to strike. And even if it had teleported back into its lair, _Robbie_ ’s magic lingered, polluted the air and settled in everyone’s throats.

It might not be there physically anymore, but its taint was.

Reached out and marked everything.

Sportacus took a deep breath.

No matter what it would take, no matter what he’d have to do, he would ensure the children remained safe. It was what he had vowed to do. It was his purpose, his job, and there was nothing that could stop him.

With newfound optimism, Sportacus jumped over a wall and cartwheeled towards the children.

The crystal vibrated faintly against its chest, as it always did when he tried to fool himself. This time, however, there was an element of _malicious glee_ to it.


	3. Chapter 3

The moment Sportacus’ set his foot on the ground the very next day, he momentarily recoiled, overcome by _something_ that sent a shiver up his spine and made his insides tingle. All of his instincts were screaming, practically begging him to jump back on the ladder and get away from this place as fast as possible to never return, but he forced himself down.

It wasn’t the Lazytown he had come to know and love anymore. It was _Robbie_ ’s now.

The faery’s magic had seeped deep into the ground, had infiltrated every fibre of every single object and being that was there. Sportacus _felt_ it, the _corruption_ that had taken hold of everything, deep down to the roots of the trees. It washed over his skin, entered into his pores, wrapped itself around his lungs and _squeezed_.

Sportacus wheezed.

His hands went to his throat, scratching idly at the feeling of his airstream being cut off, even though there was nothing there. What made him struggle to breathe was internal.

Lazytown was different, but looked the same. The sun shone as it always did, the sky was blue, the children were still asleep, but would wake up soon to come out and play. He heard birds tweeting, singing their lovely songs, and felt the wind on his skin.

But none of that could distract from the feeling of _wrong_ that was in the air – no, it _was_ the air, had replaced everything that had been there before.

When he had first arrived in Lazytown, Nine’s signature had still been there, a faint, but palpable layer on everything, lingering until Sportacus’ own aura had gradually taken over. Wherever elves went, they left behind energy, of sorts, claiming a place as theirs for everything magical to feel.

He’d never seen or claimed Lazytown as _his_ – he wasn’t Stingy, after all – but, in the eyes of the elven community, it was.

No, not anymore.

It _had been_ his, but now it was _Robbie_ ’s.

Neither the children nor the adults would notice the change in power, but to Sportacus, it was as if the town was completely different now. As foreign as it had been when he arrived, but the elven aura had been familiar, at least, whispering to him in his dreams in a comforting manner. Humans had the town archives and electronical resources to teach them about a place’s history before they arrived; elves had auras, remnants of magic.

Nine’s energy had told him about the things Nine had done while in town, the changes he had brought about, but mainly, it painted him a picture of Lazytown’s citizens. It had told him about Stingy’s parents; had all but introduced him to Pixel’s fathers, spoke of Jives, a young man who moved away before Sportacus arrived; it talked about the Mayor before Milford, what he had been like, about Ziggy’s mother and Trixie’s guardians. Through the energies, he’d learned all that Nine had known about the children, which, granted, wasn’t everything, but still valuable information to get started.

Even with the energies, he’d taken his time to learn all he could about the children by interacting with them, never having been one to believe in people’s stories about others.

Sportacus tried to remember whether Nine’s signature had ever mentioned a fairy, some kind of threat to the city his successors should know about, but came up blank. Either Nine hadn’t known either or Sportacus had simply forgotten.

‘ _Or_ ’, he thought grimly, ‘ _Nine hid it_.’

That option, however, would raise too many questions and the mere thought of poking _that_ bear with a stick gave Sportacus a headache.

Sportacus shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind and resolutely ignored whatever stray worry tried to sneak back into the upper levels of his consciousness. Instead, he focused on the problem at hand – _Robbie_ ’s claim on Lazytown.

While not completely unheard of, challenging someone’s claim was difficult and tended to involve some degree of violence, if not even murder. He’d have to attempt to replace _Robbie_ ’s energies with his own signature, which, even if he _tried_ , wouldn’t work, if only because _Robbie_ was a lot stronger than him. The faery’s magic would easily brush aside Sportacus’. And, in the hypothetical case that he succeeded, his victory would be short-lived. _Robbie_ could take Lazytown back within the blink of an eye; their conflict wouldn’t even justify using the word _battle_ , as that would imply Sportacus had a—

Sportacus stopped mid-thought.

Blinked.

He couldn’t quite believe his eyes, but _it_ was still there after a double-take.

Right in front of him, _Robbie_ was sleeping on a bench. Long, gangly legs stretched out, its feet dangling over the edge; an arm thrown over its eyes to block out the light; the faint sound of snoring coming from its unmoving, sleeping form.

Sportacus didn't even know which part of that observation confused him. The sleeping part of it - he hadn't known faeries had the same basic needs as every other species - or the fact that it was doing so on a bench, right out in the open.

It would be so easy to kill it now.

The thought crossed Sportacus’ mind with such a velocity and strength that he staggered, his eyes going wide. Under normal circumstances, Sportacus was the least violent person on earth; the mere idea of hurting someone, not to mention _kill them_ , left a bitter, sour taste not unlike bile in his mouth. Not once in his life had he even considered causing injury, believing that there always was another way, some kind of solution that didn’t require physical force beyond exercise and sports.

Though even with that in mind, the idea of ending it right here, right now, was more tempting than it should have been.

Lazytown would be safe only when the faery was dead. Any other solution had too many loopholes for someone as sneaky and cunning as the fair folk; _Robbie_ would find ways to continue its reign. The one way to ensure a faery was dead, according to _Afi_ ’s tales, was iron. A knife, a sharp object of any sort, buried deep in the faery’s chest. Decapitation too.

Sportacus regarded the somewhat peaceful expression of the sleeping faery and let out a long sigh. It wasn’t as if the faery had already done something that would justify such drastic means, but Sportacus knew, he _knew_ , that if left unsupervised and unchecked, it might. Faeries were creatures of evil, taking into consideration only their own well-being and amusement, causing havoc wherever they went. The stories were enough proof. Sportacus dreaded to think what it could do to Lazytown if he didn’t do anything to stop it.

 _‘Killing it would be the easiest way._ ’

Sportacus’ hand twitched.

He didn’t have any iron with him, naturally, but knew where he could get some. The Mayor’s gardening tools, for example, were made of iron and relatively sharp already, so he wouldn’t have to get creative, and he surely had gloves lying around somewhere too, so Sportacus wouldn’t have to touch it with bare hands.

Carefully, Sportacus stepped closer. _Robbie_ didn’t even twitch. The chances that it would still be asleep by the time Sportacus returned were high enough that Sportacus could have risked it, but…

He imagined himself holding a pair of shears, looming over the faery’s unconscious form, and felt sick.

There had to be another way, Sportacus thought; violence could only be the very last resort. If nothing else worked, then he would consider… _killing_ it, but not before.

Simultaneously, Sportacus felt a heavy weight lift off his chest and a new one settle on his shoulders. Guilt, his mind supplied; he felt guilty for putting his own moral and comfort before the children’s safety.

“You might as well speak out loud,” a rough, tired-sounding voice pulled him from his thoughts, “if you continue thinking at this volume.”

To Sportacus’ credit, he didn’t jump as badly as he had last time _Robbie_ surprised him. Still, he flinched, nearly stumbled over his own feet and had to do a backflip so he wouldn’t fall on his back. _Robbie_ gave an amused snort.

“Did I wake you up?” Sportacus asked automatically in the time his brain _rebooted_ , as Pixel would call it.

“Yes,” the faery replied grumpily and sat up. “Whatever is troubling you, worry about it somewhere else. Some people are trying to get some sleep.”

“I…” Sportacus frowned. “It’s the middle of the day.” _Robbie_ pointedly looked up to the sky, where the sun has not quite reached its zenith yet. Sportacus shuffled from one foot to the other. “Alright, it’s not, but still, it’s daytime. Shouldn’t you be sleeping in the night?”

“I was busy.”

Sportacus’ mouth moved faster than his brain. “Leaving your signature?”

The look the faery gave him made Sportacus’ blood freeze in his veins. “Oh,” _Robbie_ drawled, the corners of its mouth curling up into a smile that showed just a flash of pointed teeth. “You noticed.”

Sportacus was vaguely, faintly aware that his body was trembling. He flexed his fingers absently, wishing he had a ball, baseball bat or tennis racket with which he could have busied himself; something that could have made him feel safe. His body alone wouldn’t be enough to protect him from the faery’s magic. “Yes, I did.”

 _Robbie_ leant forward. Its eyes flashed purple. “What are you going to do about it, elf?”

Good question. Sportacus had no idea. What ideas he had have were, ultimately, useless. No matter what he’d attempt, it wouldn’t work. Judging from _Robbie_ ’s smirk, the faery was well aware of that. “Why didn’t you return to your lair to sleep?” Sportacus asked, instead of replying to _Robbie_ ’s question. “I can’t believe that sleeping on a bench is comfortable.”

“It’s not,” _Robbie_ agreed. “Not as uncomfortable as you are feeling right now, but it’s a close call.”

Sportacus blushed in a deep pink. “I’m not-“

“ _You are_.” The faery rolled its eyes. “There’s no use in trying to hide it. You’re as easy to read as a bright pink neon sign.”

“If it’s so uncomfortable, then why not sleep in your lair?” Sportacus asked, ignoring what _Robbie_ had said.

“How else would I strike terror into your heart and make your days a living nightmare, Sportasput?”

Sportacus threw his hands up. It was like pulling teeth. From a shark. While it had its fangs buried in your arm. Deep underwater. In the dark. Struggling for air. “Fine,” he said, a bit more petulantly than he normally sounded. “Suit yourself.”

“I didn’t ask for your permission, _elf_ ,” Robbie growled. “I would have done so even if you said no.”

“I know that,” Sportacus sighed. “Just…”

Never in his time here in Lazytown had Sportacus been this happy when his crystal started beeping. He stopped short of kissing it thankfully, painfully aware _Robbie_ was still watching him. Sure, the faery did its best to act like it couldn’t care less, stretching and yawning like an overly large, incredibly dangerous cat, but Sportacus saw it watch him from the corner of its eyes. Without even doing his move, Sportacus flipped over a wall and ran off.

\------------

Before Sportacus had come to town, none of the children would have been awake by nine in the morning, but here they were, gathering just outside of Stephanie’s home.

The pink-haired girl was the last to arrive, her uncle’s “Have fun today!” accompanying her outside as she opened the door and bounced over to her friends. Even Pixel was there, looking as exhausted as he normally did, but she counted it as a win that he had agreed to playing today at all.  
“Hey guys,” Stephanie greeted with a wave. “So, what are we doing today?”

“We could play soccer,” Ziggy suggested.

“But we’re five people,” Trixie argued. “I don’t see Sportacus anywhere.”

The children looked around, even climbed on benches, but couldn’t see the hero anywhere. His blue attire made it impossible for him to hide, so that meant he wasn’t here or was busy saving someone.

“We need an even number for almost all games,” Stephanie mumbled. “And no, Pixel, you can’t be substitute player.”

They fell silent after that. Until Ziggy _shouted_ : “What about Robbie?”

“Robbie?” Asked the chorus of the remaining children.

Ziggy nodded. “Maybe he’ll play with us today. Sportacus didn’t say anything against asking him again.”

“That’s a good idea, Ziggy!” Stephanie exclaimed and the others joined in.

“But where is he?”

Once more, the children climbed on benches, looking, this time, for a purple-striped suit. One would think spotting something as visible as that would be easy, but it took five minutes until Stingy said he found him.

Moments later, the children were running to where the faery was still lying on its – **_his_** , Stingy would have corrected – bench, eyes closed in an attempt to sleep again. The noise of five pairs of shoes, however, stopped it from dozing off. _Robbie_ cracked an eye open just to see the children arrive.

“What,” it barked.

“Hello Robbie,” the children greeted it. One of them was holding a soccer ball, which made _Robbie very suspicious_. “Why are you lying on a bench?”

“I’m trying to sleep.”

“But it’s daytime!”

“Your observational skills are _truly_ impressive.” The faery commented dryly. “What do you want?”

The orange-haired kid held up the soccer ball as if it was a new-born child and he was presenting it to a gathering of animals. “Would you like to play soccer with us? We’re an uneven number and-“

“Yes, yes,” _Robbie_ cut him off, waving with its hand. “You want me to be the sixth player, I get it. Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep?”

“To me you look fairly awake,” the girl with the three ponytails said with a smirk. Of all the brats, _Robbie_ had the feeling it might like her best. She looked like a trouble-maker. “Come on, old man, a game won’t hurt you.”

 _Robbie_ scowled. “I’m not old,” it said, even though it truly was, especially compared to _eight-year-old children_. At least one of them was probably even younger than that, the faery mused in disgust. Young children were a nuisance.  
“ **Fine** ,” it finally said after making them wait for its response for a few more moments, basking in their impatient looks. “But first things first.” He leant forward and beckoned them closer. “What do I get for playing with you brats?”

For all their inattentiveness, the children didn’t offer something right away, _Robbie_ had to give them that. They looked at each other first, holding a silent conversation conveyed only in glances and facial expressions, before one of them spoke up. 

“We’ll try to be quiet the rest of the day,” Trixie promised. Neither of the children caught the _mischievous_ glimmer in the faery’s eyes.

“ _Deal_ ,” it immediately said and got to its feet.

\------------

When Sportacus managed to escape Bessie’s house after she had demanded approximately half an hour of his time with mundane household chores, something was very, very wrong.

The town was completely quiet. No sound of footsteps, no laughter, no voices, nothing.

It was as if all noise had been sucked from it.


	4. Chapter 4

Sportacus turned frantically, trying to figure out what was going on. Even when he had first arrived in town, back when none of the children had ever gone outside to play, when the town lived up to its name, it hadn’t been _this_ quiet.

He extended his reach, but felt only _Robbie_ ’s energy, the black tendrils that covered everything in invisible vapour, wrapped the town in impenetrable mist. He couldn’t _feel_ the children; he couldn’t feel _anything_ but what was in his immediate vicinity, right beneath his feet.

Sportacus tried to push through, but the mist turned hard as stone, forcing him backwards with a violent shove. The hero let out a breath, gritting his teeth in frustration. He wasn’t used to being _blind_.

Without his magic creating a kind of surveillance system, he’d have to rely on his eyes and other senses. Easier said than done, given it was completely, unnaturally quiet.

_‘Where could they be?_ ’

He went to the tree house first, but no one was there. Same for the garden, the playground, town hall and the other spots where the children sometimes played. No one was outside; it was like Lazytown was deserted, a ghost town.

Sportacus ran to Stephanie’s house, a breath of relief escaping his lips as he saw the Mayor do something in his kitchen. Not everyone was gone. He’d seen Bessie only moments before, so hoped she hadn’t disappeared too.

It was just the children.

The elf turned around, staring at the playground as if it could give him an answer. There was nothing there; due to _Robbie_ ’s magic blocking his, Sportacus couldn’t feel anything, no remnants of life forces that could have given him an explanation. He only had his eyes to help him, and they didn’t see any of the children.

_Where were they?_

The next second, Sportacus stopped dead in his tracks, all air punched from his lungs.

He felt like he’d been slapped.

With a flip, Sportacus landed on top of a wall and scanned his surroundings, searching with fear rushing through his veins instead of blood. Shivers of cold and panic ran down his spine. He prayed to whoever was listening, _begged_ , that the children were somewhere in town and he’d simply not seen, found them yet, that he was wrong.

That _Robbie_ hadn’t taken them.

The fair folk kidnapped children, it was a well-known fact. They took them, replaced them with one of their own, and did… well, Sportacus wasn’t exactly sure what the faeries did to the human children they took, but it couldn’t be nice. In some of _Afi’_ s stories, the children were eaten; in others, they were forced to an eternity of servitude and labour.

Before his mind’s eye, he saw Ziggy, a silver chain wrapped around his ankle, handling burning hot iron with his bare hands, skin blistering, but glamoured not to notice. It nearly made him vomit.

_Robbie_ was nowhere to be seen either.

For a moment, Sportacus contemplated going into the faery’s lair. If _Robbie_ was there, he could confront it, demand it release the children – how, he didn’t know. He had nothing that could threaten the faery with, nothing he could use to force it to listen to him. If it wasn’t there, he could _try_ … he didn’t know _what_ , but he’d have to try _something_. Track down the faery to its court, find the children, dispel the _fog_ , banish _Robbie_ from Lazytown…

As if stung by an adder, Sportacus jumped off the wall and ran to Ziggy’s home. What if _Robbie_ had already replaced the children, and now, sitting with Ziggy’s mother, was a changeling, a faery child, acting as if it was her son? She’d never notice.

Through the window, Sportacus saw Ziggy’s mother, talking to someone on the phone. Ziggy was nowhere to be seen, his bedroom on the first floor dark. Sportacus didn’t know whether to feel relieved or even more worried.

As quickly as possible, the hero ran over to Pixel’s house. His fathers were away for business, so he didn’t expect the door to be opened for him as he rang, but there was a _buzz_ and he could push it open. Nearly stumbling over his feet, Sportacus jogged up the stairs, taking two with every step, and threw open the door to Pixel’s room.

Never in his life would he have expected to feel _relieved_ to see the children play videogames.

He counted – Stephanie, Trixie, Pixel, Stingy and Ziggy – and reached out with his magic, let it brush over each of them, scanning their energies. With a heavy sigh, Sportacus’ shoulders sank as the tension drained from him. They were all here. They were _alright_. It was them, not changelings, they were human, _it was them_.

Only then did Sportacus take in the overall situation. The children were gathered in a half-circle, their eyes glued to the screen as they played, the _click-click_ of the controllers the only sound Sportacus could hear. The game sound was turned off; he watched, with a frown, as one of the characters jumped right on spikes – all without any noise. He knew from having walked in on them playing before that there was supposed to be sound, a melody that played when a character died.

It was all silent, like the town.

“Hey guys-“

The children all pressed their index fingers to their lips and “ssh”-ed.

Sportacus blinked. “What is-“

Again, they shushed.

“Wh-“

They turned around to him, glaring. Sportacus held his hands up in apology, which seemed to satisfy them, because they turned back around to focus on their game. He watched them for a few minutes, bouncing from one foot to the other to stay in motion, before tapping Trixie on the shoulder. She turned her head and took the paper he was offering to her.

_Do you know where Robbie is?_

Trixie nodded. He gave her his pen and tried to read what she was writing while she did. She handed back the paper and pen, he smiled in thanks and she turned back to her game.

_He said he'd go sleep on one of the benches in town after playing with us._

The words made Sportacus feel cold all over.

With a wave of his hand, he left, the door falling closed with a silent _thud_ , as if it too tried to make as little noise as possible. It was, without a doubt, _Robbie_ ’s doing. Sportacus’ fear transformed into anger.

It didn’t take long to find the faery. _Robbie_ was lying on a bench, using its arm as a pillow, eyes closed and breathing deep, slow. Still, Sportacus felt it was awake, aware of his arrival. He could feel a shift in the air, the energy stirring, lurking in the corners of his vision.

“What do you want, elf,” _Robbie_ asked after a few moments in which Sportacus didn’t say anything. He hoped the faery could feel his disappointed glare burn holes in its skin. “I’m busy.”

“Busy?” Sportacus repeated, a dry, humourless laugh bubbling in his chest. “You’re not doing anything.”

“Upholding a grip on the whole town isn’t a piece of cake,” _Robbie_ hummed. It waved its hand, making gestures. Sportacus didn’t even try to understand what they were supposed to mean. “It takes my complete and undivided attention.”

“Explain to me, then, how you can do that while _controlling the children at the same time_.”

_Robbie_ cracked an eye open. It didn’t as much as twitch as it saw Sportacus leaning over it, the elf’s shadow darkening _Robbie_ ’s face. If anything, the faery looked amused. “I’m not controlling them.”

Sportacus clinched his jaw. “Then why are they so silent?”

The faery didn’t immediately reply. It sat up slowly, stretching languidly like a cat, a yawn showing off the rows upon rows of sharp teeth in its mouth. Sportacus blinked, and the teeth looked normal again. With anyone else, he might have been able to convince himself it had been his imagination or a mistake, _Robbie_ ’s glamour flickering out of place, but he knew it had been deliberate.

A reminder.

“ _Robbie_ -“

“It’s an art,” the faery interrupted him, humming, “to make humans believe they’re doing something out of free will even when they aren’t. Don’t worry-“ It said, voice the epitome of nonchalance, and held up its hands as Sportacus stepped forward. The elf’s lips were screwed into an expression of anger. “- I didn’t _force_ them into anything they didn’t _want._ I’m just ensuring they _keep their promise_.”

“I told you to leave them alone—“

“You must be mistaking me for someone who cares.” _Robbie_ rolled its eyes. “Besides, _I_ left them alone. _They_ came to _me_. Asked me if I wanted to play soccer, so they’d be an even number of players. Ugh.” _Robbie_ sneered. “Me, playing. _Exercising_.” The faery turned its head and caught Sportacus’ eyes. “Of course, with the right incentive, I can be convinced to do even that.”

“What,” Sportacus asked through gritted teeth, “did they promise you?”

_Robbie_ grinned. “They said they’d be quiet the rest of the day.”

Sportacus frowned. “Quiet… for the rest of the day…” He deflated. That wasn’t so bad, was it? There was a very clear limit to what the faery could twist those words into. The deal was limited in time, defined, somewhat accurately, what the children had to do to fulfil their end of the bargain.

It didn’t mean he had to _like it_ , but it could have been much worse. The fair folk was skilled with words; could take a seemingly innocent thing and corrupt it into something _dark_ and, sometimes, even into the opposite of what it was originally supposed to mean.

“You’re not lying to me, are you?” Sportacus asked, unable to think of anything else to say.

Though the glare that _Robbie_ directed at him made Sportacus wonder whether remaining silent would have been better. It was impressive how much the faery could convey with a look alone. Right now, it regarded Sportacus with the disdain of a superior species having to endure a lesser organism’s continued existence, and did so only because it had to.

The look made Sportacus squirm uncomfortably.

“Need I remind you that I _literally cannot lie_?” The faery asked, its intonation adding to its whole _‘I entertain your presence only because I’m amazed by how you can survive with an IQ as little as yours_ ’vibe. It was _truly impressive_. “I can deceit, trick, evade, twist words, but I cannot lie.”

Sportacus nodded. He vaguely remembered _Afi_ saying something along those lines, but reminding him, sternly, that one should never believe what the fae were saying anyway.

Right now, though, Sportacus had no other choice but to do just that and believe what _Robbie_ was saying. Seeing the faery shiver as a gust of wind brushed past them, Sportacus tilted his head. He hadn’t known fae felt the cold. But then, the stories only ever described them as being capable of feeling a maximum of five things: Anger, envy, hatred, glee and iron. “You should go somewhere else.”

_Robbie_ raised an eyebrow at him. “ _Really_?” It asked, the word dripping in mock-surprise and sarcasm. “That’s your plan? That’s how you want to get rid of me? By telling me to go away? I don’t know what I expected, but I would have thought you’d put a little more effort into it.”

Now it was Sportacus’ turn to roll his eyes. “I don’t want you to go away,” he said, before realising what that sounded like. “I mean, of course I want you gone, but that’s not what I meant… I…” He blushed. The faery looked fairly unamused, like it was suffering from a major headache. “You’re freezing.”

“I’m not.”

Sportacus frowned. “Yes… yes, you are. You’re shivering.”

“I’m not.”

Sportacus pinched his nose and sighed. “You should go to your lair or somewhere where it is warm, not stay out here in the open and cold.”

“What do you care?”

That… was a very good question, actually, now that Sportacus thought about it. He didn’t know whether fae could get sick, but if _Robbie_ did, its magic might weaken considerably, maybe even enough for Sportacus to do something against it. It was the best plan he could come up with at the moment, but was decent enough, he supposed, to possibly work. And yet, he didn't even consider going through with it.

The hero shrugged. “It was just a suggestion,” he said. “You don’t have to listen to me. It’s not like you won’t do whatever you want to do, regardless of what I say.”

_Robbie_ nodded. “You’re a quick learner,” it said in a voice that Sportacus _thought_ might have an undertone of something akin to pride to it. Then, the faery threw its legs over the back of the bench, lying there with its head hanging down towards the ground. It looked very uncomfortable, but was apparently just dramatic enough for the faery’s tastes. “If that’s all, leave me alone. Your continued presence is tiring me out. I can practically _feel_ my intelligence quotient lessen with every second I have to share the same air with you.”

Sportacus snorted in amusement. “Okay, _Robbie_ ,” he said, before flipping away.

\-----------------

It was rare that Sportacus had the day all for himself, but the children were _enthralled_ , playing quietly in Pixel’s room, and the Mayor and Miss Busybody had gone out on what he assumed was a dinner date.

No one needed his help at the moment, a fact Sportacus had to take advantage of.

Up in his airship, high above the town, he sat down on the floor, legs crossed in meditation. He’d taken off his bracers and hat, and had removed the crystal from its casing, holding it in a loose grip in his right hand.

With a deep breath, Sportacus closed his eyes.

Reading signatures was something every elven child learnt from a young age onwards. He’d been taught by his mother, who in turn had been taught by his grandfather, a knowledge and skill passed down from one generation to the next. So far, Sportacus had only ever used it during his training with _Móðir_ and after arriving in Lazytown, and now, he not only intended to do it with the energy of a being other than an elf – which, in itself, would have been challenging enough already – but also with the energy of a _faery_.

He didn’t know whether that was even possible. Fae signatures didn’t necessarily have to work the same way an elf’s did; not to mention that there was a very high chance that _Robbie_ would notice and not like it at all.

If he was lucky, though, Sportacus could find out _something_ about it, maybe even about the faery’s plans. It was a rather desperate idea, but he _had to try_.

Sportacus reached down, his magic descending upon the town like snowfall. He was met by a wall of black mist, which effectively blocked him from going any further, but thankfully, that wasn’t what he wanted anyway. To his surprise, there was a faint layer of his own magic wrapped around _Robbie_ ’s, like protective foil. If he hadn’t known what _Robbie_ ’s signature felt like, and if he hadn’t known to look for it, he might not have noticed the faery’s magic at all.

He didn’t dwell on the thought for too long, instead reached out and dived into the vapour.

Immediately, his mind was filled with black smoke. Sportacus wrestled down his own magic that wanted to flare up to protect him, let the tendrils rush into his brain and shroud it in blackness.

For several moments, Sportacus didn’t see, feel or hear anything. There was only black, wavering and billowing, evading his grip every time he reached out. But then, finally, he caught a glimpse of something and gripped it.

_Flashes of yellow and orange. A voice. Familiar magic. Brown eyes. A handshake._

Sportacus tried to reach in further, but was suddenly pushed away. He returned to his body with such force that he was thrown to his back. He groaned, pain pulsating behind his eyes. Vaguely, he was aware of the ship’s AI talking to him, but he didn’t have it in him to reply, so he waved with his hand and it left him alone.

Sportacus slowly sat up, trying to process what he’d just seen.

Even as he put together the pieces of the puzzle, he didn’t understand.

It couldn’t be, but…

He’d just witnessed a _deal_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've never used so much italic in my writing before.


	5. Chapter 5

Six days went by without any sight of the fae. That should have been a blessing – six days without any further deals, without having to be alert and ready twenty-four seven, without not getting any proper sleep – but the feeling in Sportacus’ stomach was anything but positive.

While he didn’t actively search for _Robbie_ , he caught himself, every now and then, scanning his surroundings, looking for a purple, striped suit.

But _Robbie_ hadn’t shown up, not even once. The faery wasn’t just avoiding him specifically; the children hadn’t seen it either, nor had Sportacus caught it sneaking out in the night. Without the lingering tendrils of fae magic that were still covering the town like cloth,

it almost would have been like _Robbie_ had never been there in the first place.

The faery’s absence could mean a thousand things. A great majority of them were reasons that did not justify the nervousness that cursed through his body and kept him awake at night.

As much as he tried to hide it, the children could tell he distracted by something. They were an enigma to him. On the one hand, their survival instincts might as well never have developed, given how they _couldn’t tell they were in massive, inexplicable danger_ every time _Robbie_ so much as _looked at them_ , but the moment Sportacus wasn’t his ordinary self, they were onto him like bloodhounds.

_Children_. They’d forever remain a mystery.

“Is it because Robbie hasn’t left his house lately?” Stephanie asked him, flopping down in the grass next to the hero. They’d just finished playing soccer and were now having a picnic in the park, bathed in sunshine, but even that couldn’t lift Sportacus’ spirits.

“What makes you think that?”

Stephanie gave him an unimpressed look. “You aren’t really here, not with your head. And it started right after Robbie stopped coming up here.”

He sighed. “I’m concerned, that’s all.”

“Did you two get into an argument?”

“Why would we…” He trailed off because of the glare she directed at him.

Stephanie rolled her eyes. “Couples sometimes do that. My father said that it helps clear the air, like after a storm.”

Sportacus’ mind came to a standstill. His mouth fell open, but he closed it again a second later as he couldn’t even _begin_ to think of what to respond to _that_. After a few minutes being subjected to Stephanie’s annoyed expression, he managed to bring his thoughts into something at least somewhat resembling an order and croaked out “ _Couples?_ ”

If at all possible, Stephanie looked even more annoyed. “Yes, couples…” Her eyes suddenly widened comically. “Was it meant to be a secret? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

The elf held up a hand. “Stephanie,” he said, plucking out word fragments from the mess that was his mind, “Robbie and I… we’re not a couple.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Are you sure?”

Despite the gravity of the whole situation, Sportacus had to laugh. “I’m pretty sure I would have noticed if we were, Stephanie.”

“You just looked like you are.”

“We did?”

She nodded. “Pixel saw you two argue the way his fathers sometimes do…”

“I’ve known him for nine days, six of which he was nowhere to be seen. It generally takes more than that for people to start dating,” Sportacus said and put on one of the smile he reserved for the children, making him look as un-patronising as possible. “Besides, people can argue even if they aren’t together, Stephanie.”

Stephanie averted her gaze, a faint pink blush on her cheeks. “You weren’t arguing, you were _arguing_.” At Sportacus’ blank face, she huffed. “There’s a difference, trust me. When Bessie and my uncle argue it’s different from me arguing with Stingy.”

“That’s because you two are still children and Miss Busybody and your uncle are grown-ups,” he pointed out. “It has nothing to do with… you know.”

She pouted. “So you’re not together _yet_.” Sportacus spluttered. “Everyone can see that there’s something between you. I know that kind of stuff, Sportacus.”

If by something she meant a horrible, _horrible_ deal and the unspoken promise that he’d do _everything_ in his power to stop _Robbie_ , by lethal force, if necessary, then yes, there was _something_ between them. He gave her a smile and nudged her side, before speaking more loudly than necessary. “I know that kind of stuff too, and I can tell there’s something between you and Trix-“

“Hey guys!” Stephanie called with a voice at least one octave higher than normal. “Let’s play another match!” With that, she ran off, leaving Sportacus alone chuckling under his breath.

His mood changed within the blink of an eye, however, after he got back on his feet and spotted something purple and striped in the distance.

“My crystal’s beeping, someone’s in trouble,” Sportacus said quickly.

“I don’t hear anything…” Stingy commented, but Sportacus was already running off.

\---------

He found the faery near the bench it had occupied the last time Sportacus had seen it. Though _Robbie_ very much tried to appear uncaring with an air of grumpiness and annoyance surrounding it, Sportacus thought, as he landed in front of it with a flip, he’d seen the creature’s aura flicker in something close to nervousness or even fear.

It could have only been his imagination, though.

He didn’t even know if the faery knew what fear was, unless it came from its victims.

“Where were you the last few days?” Sportacus inquired without any kind of greeting.

_Robbie_ jumped with a yelp, limbs flailing dramatically. Sportacus assumed that he hadn’t really taken the faery by surprise, but that it was simply acting as if, but couldn’t be sure. It had looked rather distracted.

“Do you know how impolite it is to sneak up on people like that?” _Robbie_ glared. “You could have given me a heart attack!”

Did fae have hearts? Or were they driven by mischief and other people’s suffering? Sportacus didn’t ask any of those questions, even though he was curious, but said “I’m sorry” and rubbed the back of his head. “I didn’t mean to.”

_Robbie_ huffed, brushing imaginary dust off its vest. “Good.”

For a few moments, neither of them said anything. Sportacus shuffled from one foot to the other, while _Robbie_ simply regarded him with a raised eyebrow, unblinking. Then the elf blurted out the first thing that came to his mind: “Do you feel when people are talking about you or something? You always show up when I do."

_Robbie_ tilted its head to the side. “Yes. In fact, if you say my names three times in front of a mirror, I’ll appear behind you and smother you with a pillow for bothering me when I could be sleeping.” Sportacus just looked at it in confusion and incomprehension. _Robbie_ rolled its eyes. “Nevermind.” It smirked. "You were talking about me?"

Sportacus’ face heated up in a blush. He opened his mouth, but closed it almost immediately again. That was the second time in less than an hour that he was left speechless.

_Robbie_ ’s smirk widened into a grin. “It's nice to know you're thinking about me even when I'm not physically present to annoy you."

It seemed to take immense pleasure from bothering him, Sportacus thought, turning his head away to hide the red tinge of his cheeks. Apparently, _Robbie_ greatly disliked being ignored, because after a heartbeat, it kicked Sportacus against his leg, not strong enough to make him stagger, but enough to hurt a bit.

Before Sportacus could protest, _Robbie_ spoke again. “What do you want?”

“I asked you a question.”

“And I’m not answering it.” _Robbie_ rolled its eyes. “It’s none of your business.”

Sportacus sighed. Getting lectured by a _fairy_ felt even more surreal than the whole situation on its own. He dropped the issue, as it became clear to him that he’d get nothing out of _Robbie_ concerning that. Turning his head, Sportacus looked towards where the children were playing, noting, with a smirk, that whenever Stephanie and Trixie touched in some way, even if it was just their arms brushing, one of them or both blushed.

He yearned to return to them, play and forget, if only for a moment, that a threat loomed over the town. But he was the hero and he couldn’t ignore things just because they scared him, made him anxious. It was his duty to protect Lazytown’s citizens from all danger.

Sportacus turned back to _Robbie_ and put his hands on his hips. “You made a deal.“

“Yes, that tends to happen when you’re a faery,” Robbie replied, licking its red lollipop.

Sportacus blinked and looked down. “…where did you get all that candy from?”

“The small one. Zippy? Gave me _some_ in return for a favour.”

“That’s _some_?” He gestured to the literal _pile_ on the floor, which the fairy was currently using as an armchair, complete with a footrest made of still-wrapped taffy. “Does he even have any left?”

“A few.”

The elf pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long, deep breath, seeking out the calm state of mind that he sometimes entered when doing light meditations. _Robbie_ had a talent for driving him up the walls. “What did he want from you?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Sportacus raised an eyebrow. “So I know what he got himself into.”

_Robbie_ put a hand on its chest, right above its heart, if it had one. It looked scandalised and wounded, an impression utterly destroyed by the lollipop in its mouth, blowing up its cheek comically. “Your mistrust and suspicion hurts me deeply.”

“I thought fae cannot lie?”

_Robbie_ grinned. “Idioms and expressions are a grey area.” It gestured with its lolli. “If you _have_ to know, Zippy-“

“Ziggy.”

“-fine, _Ziggy_ needed someone to help him with something.” Sportacus raised an eyebrow. “You’re _insufferable_ , do you know that?”

“Only with you,” Sportacus said dryly.

It made _Robbie_ grin. “Would you look at that, I didn’t think you could be funny on purpose.” The faery leant back on its candy-chair, looking all regal, as if it was sitting on a throne. It was missing only a crown. “It’s bad business to reveal my client’s deals with me, Sportaspoon.”

Sportacus gaped. “ _Spoon_?”

“Don’t look so offended,” _Robbie_ said, rolling its eyes. “Fine, I’ll tell you, but only so you can leave me alone again. He needed help with his homework.”

“And you helped him? Did he understand the problem? Did you show him how-“

_Robbie_ held up a hand. “He, and I quote, wanted me to explain to him how to do _simple math_.”

“He’s _five_.”

“That’s no excuse.” _Robbie_ huffed. “It took me half an hour to get him to understand how addition and subtraction works. I dread the day he asks me for help with division and multiplication.”

There was a strange feeling in Sportacus’ chest, making it hard to breathe. He stared at the faery and the faery stared back with narrowed eyes. Finally, Sportacus shook off the _warmth_ that had no right nor reason to be there in the first place, and crossed his arms. “You made a deal.”

“I thought we’d already established that. Are you that dense?”

Sportacus didn’t react beyond a twitch of his moustache. “I don’t mean your deal with Ziggy,” he said. “Nor your deal with the children.”

“Don’t forget my deals with the Mayor and his love interest.”

Sportacus coughed. “What?”

“Oh, you didn’t know about that already?” _Robbie_ tutted. “Seems to me that you ought to pay more attention.”

The elf shook his head, pushing the dozens of outcries that formed in his mind to the back of his consciousness, where he had buried similar thoughts. Threatening _Robbie_ hadn’t worked before and it wouldn’t work now; there was little use in trying and acting like a broken record. Though he certainly did feel like one. “I read your aura-“

The air around them went cold. Sportacus watched his breath transform into small clouds that ascended towards the sky and— _where had the sun gone_? There only were grey clouds, blocking all light, swallowing Lazytown in darkness, a wind that, like sharp, tiny knives, cut into his exposed skin. He was a creature of the snow, of the icy, windy North, but this cold was different, went deeper, and made him shiver.

When Sportacus looked back at _Robbie_ , the faery’s eyes were shining silver and shadows had begun gathering around him in smoke. “You did _what_?” It asked, its voice dripping with anger and… fear?

Sportacus paused. _Robbie_ looked _afraid_.

“I read your aura and witnessed the fragments of a memory. You made a deal with someone here, before I arrived in town. It felt important. What was it?”

“Why,” _Robbie_ hissed through sharp, pointy teeth, “would I tell you?”

Sportacus stepped closer. Part of him was delighted to see _Robbie_ recoil, leaning backwards to bring more distance between them again, but an equally strong part felt bad about exploiting someone’s fear, even when that someone was one of the fair folk. But he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was onto something, something significant.

The shadows were flickering threateningly, but they too retreated, remaining curled close around _Robbie_ ’s frame. Ready to strike or defend.

Sportacus hesitated. “I’ll owe you if you tell me what the deal was about.”

_Robbie_ laughed. It sounded forced, laced with undertones of anxiety and nervousness. “Even if I _could_ agree to that, I _wouldn’t_.” With a wave of its hand, the shadows covered its throne of candy. The faery stood up and the candy was gone, as if it had never been there before. “If that’s all, Sportaschmuck, I’m leaving.”

It was gone so quickly Sportacus couldn’t even open his mouth to stop it.

_Robbie_ ’s words were echoing in his brain, drowning out the sound of the children wondering loudly about the weather, for the sky was clearing up again, the grey replaced by bright blue and warm light.

_Could_.

It _couldn’t_ speak about the deal, even if it wanted to. Had it not spoken of the deal it had made with Ziggy just moments before that – or about the deal with the children a few days ago – Sportacus would have believed not being able to talk about it was normal, but that couldn’t be it.

Had the deal involved the oath not to speak of it ever again?

Like a contract, deals and favours could be ridiculously specific, covering the tiniest loopholes and hypothetical situations that would probably never happen. It wasn’t that far-reaching to assume a pledge of secrecy could be one of those conditions.

That, however, meant that whatever the deal had been, it had been important enough to _force Robbie to keep silent about it_. The _business partner_ didn’t want anyone to find out. That was enough reason for Sportacus to _want to find out_.

“Ladder!” He called up.

There was one person who could help him, who had been here before him and might know something about the deal. The moment Sportacus was up in his airship, he called for a pen and paper, and wrote a letter, which he sent off immediately.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t take long for _him_ to reply.

**_‘Dear Níu, I need your help…’_ **


	6. Chapter 6

Every day Sportacus checked if he got any mail and every day, he was disappointed. Besides the usual letters from the kids and the occasional request from one of the parents – such as Ziggy’s mother wondering whether he could stay awake an hour longer, so Ziggy wouldn’t be all alone at home until she returned from an important meeting in BusyCity -- there was nothing. No reply of Nine just yet.

It frustrated Sportacus more than it should have.

He’d always prided himself on being one of the more patient elves, especially compared to one or two of his predecessors who were known for their somewhat shorter tempers, but this issue, the _waiting_ , seemed to bring out parts of him that he had not known existed before. Or it was Robbie’s presence that pushed him dangerously close to the edge, he couldn’t tell.

It was probably both.

A week had passed and by now, Sportacus wondered just what Robbie was after.

The faery made deals left and right – fixing the heater for Trixie’s guardians, accompanying Pixel to the supermarket to get food, helping Ziggy with his homework, even playing soccer with the children, if given the right incentive. The fact should have upset Sportacus, but…

Robbie never asked for much.

A day of quiet. Candy or cake. A few screws and bolts from Pixel, whatever the faery needed those for. Someone getting groceries from the store and leaving them in front of the billboard just outside town, where Robbie had told them lay one of the entrances to the underground home.

It weren’t the kind of deals Sportacus had expected, far from that, far from his _own deal_ with the faery. The bargains weren’t malicious, nor did they hurt anyone. Sometimes they inconvenienced Lazytown’s citizens, but never much, like when Robbie made a deal with the Mayor that required Millford to ask everyone to avoid walking on the ground and to use the walls and benches instead, an elaborate game of ‘the floor is lava’ that ended only late in the evening. Every now and then Robbie would also play pranks, which seemed to have no other purpose than to bother the children – though they always had fun playing with Robbie.

Sportacus didn’t know what the faery’s goals were and that bothered him. Little did he hate more than not knowing something, having to expect the unexpected. He didn’t like being clueless and what Robbie did completely went against what the elf knew from his grandfather’s stories. The faery didn’t seem to be evil.

He—

Sportacus paused in his thinking and let out a huff of air before dropping down to do sit-ups.

The fact that nine hadn't answered yet meant he could, _had to_ , rather, focus on the **_other_** problem at hand.

He didn’t know when  _the faery_ had become Robbie – and not _Robbie_ , but Robbie – in his mind, nor when he had started referring to  _it_ as him.

It just… happened.

The more time he spent with the faery, the harder it became to think of him as the shadowy creature he had come to know below Lazytown. There still were flashes of teeth and silvery eyes, shadows moving in the corner of his eyes, slithering like snakes, but most of the time, Robbie almost seemed… human.

He ate more sugar than any ordinary person could stomach, was cranky most of the time, snarky and quick with his tongue, but underneath that, he was _softer_ than he pretended to be. He didn’t outright help with homework that wasn’t part of the deal, but lingered around and made comments that never failed to serve as a nudge in the right direction. One time, Ziggy had scrapped his knee and Robbie had cleaned the wound and given him a plaster, claiming that he didn’t like seeing blood, but Sportacus knew better.

Robbie cared. Sportacus hadn’t thought it was possible, for a faery to care about anyone but themselves, but Robbie did. He might not act like he did, but it was obvious – and he’d avoided giving an answer when Sportacus had asked him about it.

Robbie _cared_ and the elf didn’t like the way that thought made his heart flutter, a warmth that he could easily have identified had he wanted, but didn’t really want to. That would mean addressing things he had no desire to deal with.

He tried to focus on something else, but the thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone. The crystal pulsated gently against his chest; he couldn’t tell whether it was meant as encouragement or if the crystal was making fun of him. Both options were equally possible as of late it had taken on a malicious personality, as if Robbie had infused its energies with his mirth, back when he fixed it.

But that was another issue he didn’t want to think about.

Sportacus flipped back on his feet and onto the wall, scanning his surroundings. His eyes could only do so much; he needed his _sight_. Experimentally, he let his magic spread, fully expecting to be met by a wall of black smoke, as impenetrable as stone. But the collision never came. Sportacus frowned and tried to reach further.

His _sight_ wasn’t as clear as it had been before Robbie had come to the surface, but he could make out shapes, apparitions almost, telling him where everyone was. The smoke was still there and just as strong as before, its strength flickering right under the surface, but it let him through. The magic didn’t try to stop him anymore.

He _really_ did not know what to make of _that_.

Trying not to dwell on any of those uncomfortable thoughts turned out to be difficult. Even without the smoke, Robbie was everywhere, his presence as much part of Lazytown as the air that filled Sportacus’ lungs. He huffed, mostly out of frustration, and jumped off the wall. There had been no sight, nor _sight_ of the faery anywhere but that didn’t have to mean a thing. And while he was more comfortable around Robbie by now, he still felt better being near the children, just in case. The children also never failed to cheer him up and distract him.

He found them lying in the grass, forming a star with their arms. Robbie was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey guys,” Sportacus greeted, sitting down next to Trixie’s head. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

Sportacus chuckled. “I can see that! Why aren’t you playing?”

The children looked at each other with blank expressions and shrugged. “I’m not sure,” Ziggy mused out loud. “We just kind of started doing… nothing without a reason.”

Sportacus jumped back on his feet and put his hands on his hips. “How about instead of doing nothing, we play a game?”

“But which one?”

“Not soccer!”

“Badminton?”

“We don’t have a net!”

“You don’t need a net to play badminton,” Sportacus pointed out, but they continued arguing, their little voices raising to volumes that made Sportacus’ ears ring uncomfortably.

“Don’t you have a net, Stingy?”

“Yes, but it’s _mine_.”

“We don’t want to take it, we just want to _use_ it.”

“But it’s my net!”

“But Stingy, we can’t play without a net-“

“Did someone say net?”

Sportacus turned around, staring at the faery who was leaning casually against a wall, holding in his hands a… net. The elf blinked, but the net didn’t disappear, so it wasn’t an illusion. Which raised the question of why Robbie was standing there with a _fishing net_ in his hands.

“Robbie Rotten!” The children exclaimed. Robbie rolled his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“What _I_ am doing here?” Robbie pushed himself off the wall. The motion was overly dramatic, but it fit his personality. Doing things halfway was, Sportacus suspected, a foreign concept to the faery; it was all or nothing. “Well, _I_ was trying to sleep but _certain people_ —“ He glared. “—had to shout and make lots of noise!”

“That’s what happens when you argue, silly,” Trixie said and stuck her tongue out. Robbie stuck his out right back as if he too was eight years old and had a love for being _childish_ just for the sake of it. “People get loud.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Robbie waved his hand to dismiss her. “I heard you were searching for a net?”

“We want to play badminton but don’t have one.”

“You don’t need one,” Sportacus repeated, but no one was listening to him. He couldn’t blame them, not really, given how Robbie seemed to captivate, command and _demand_ everyone’s attention. The faery wasn’t doing it effortlessly – for that, he was _too_ _much_ – but it had the same effect. Sportacus couldn’t bring himself to look away as the faery straightened out the net and brushed it over, looking all smug with his teeth bared in a grin.

“Now look at this net that I _just_ found.” Robbie’s grin widened. “I don’t know a lot about sports, but this ought to work.”

The children ran over to him. “Where did you find this?”

Robbie shrugged and made an evasive gesture. “Doesn’t matter.” He leant down towards the children, his grin almost looking hungry. “What matters is that _you_ need a net and _I_ happen to have one _right here_. The question is what you’ll give me for it.”

"Why do you always ask for something in return?” Stephanie asked. “Yeah, that's mean!" The other children agreed.

Sportacus didn’t understand why their sudden mistrust made him feel bad. It should have overjoyed him that they started questioning things and didn’t rush into deals blindly, but Robbie’s look, the brief flash of something Sportacus could only describe as _panic_ , for the lack of a better-suited alternative, twinged deep in his heart.

Robbie recovered quickly and scoffed. “Because I can and there’s nothing you can do against it.” He crossed his arms, dangling the net in front of the kids’ faces. “Do you want that or not?”

The children looked at each other and had a silent conversation held solemnly in shrugs, grimaces and exchanged looks. Finally, Trixie huffed out a “Fine” and held out her hand. “What do you want?”

Robbie made a show of humming and hawing, tapping his large chin and furrowing his eyebrows. Finally, after the children had grown sufficiently restless and annoyed, he pointed at the bottle of lemonade Ziggy had brought along. “That.”

The children didn’t question it and handed said object over without much protest – Stingy complained, as he always did, but didn’t stop the changing of ownership. Robbie grinned and took Trixie’s outstretched hand, shaking it. “Deal.”

The hair at the back of Sportacus’ neck stood up as he felt the tell-tale crackle of magic, a deal being made and finalised. Robbie withdrew his hand again and threw the net towards the children, who took it and got to work tying it between two trees with Sportacus’ help.

He caught himself looking at Robbie, who seemed to be in no hurry to leave. On the contrary, the faery settled down on a nearby bench and stretched out, lips wrapped around the neck of the bottle even though he wasn’t drinking. Robbie caught Sportacus’ eyes and the elf blushed, quickly turning away again.

While he would readily admit that he could be naïve when it came to certain things, even he knew what _attraction_ was. He just couldn’t explain to himself why he was interested in _Robbie_ out of a sudden. Sure, the faery was nice to look at, all long legs and arms, and pale, soft skin, but—

Sportacus tried to call into his mind the image of Robbie when he had met him – the sharp, predator-like fangs glistening in the darkness of his lair, the silver eyes moving like vortices, threatening to suck him in, the shadowy limbs, wafting ghost-like, ready to attack – but couldn’t marry together the memory with what he saw lounging on a bench.

The hero shook his head and tried not to dwell on the heat that had coursed through his body upon seeing Robbie’s lips rounded, wrapped firmly—

“Sportacus!”

He didn’t _jump_ , but it was a close call. Praying to whatever god was listening that his face wasn’t red, he turned to the children and gave them a bright smile. “Are we ready to play?”

\----

Badminton was easy enough to teach and the children very quickly got a grip on it. Most of Sportacus’ time was spent collecting the shuttlecocks that landed further away, not providing the amount of distraction he would have liked, but enough to occupy his mind and keep certain thoughts an arm-length away from him.

As long as he kept moving, he couldn’t think about things he really did not want to think about. Doing so would open a can of worms he wanted to keep firmly closed, with duct tape and nails if necessary.

He was just flipping over a wall, searching for the shuttlecock Trixie had somehow managed to hit with enough force to send it halfway across town, when he heard Ziggy’s voice.

“Robbie, can you help me? The shut… shuttle... ball is stuck in the tree and I can’t get it!”

There was a moment of silence, barely longer than a heartbeat, before Robbie said: “Sure.”

Sportacus’ head whipped around so fast he felt dizzy, stars dancing in front of his eyes, but he could still see, very clearly, how Robbie got up, put the bottle of lemonade on the ground and stretched to get the shuttlecock off the branch it got stuck on.

“There,” Robbie said, ruffled Ziggy’s hair and lay back down.

All without a deal.

Sportacus was aware that he was staring, eyes as wide as saucers, shock written plainly on his face, but Robbie had just _helped without making a deal_. He’d done it before, but never like this, always within the pretence of acting for his own benefit. The only selfish reason Sportacus could think of was that Stephanie’s accusation made him act more carefully, but none of the other children had noticed, only Ziggy.

There was a warmth in Sportacus’ chest, fluttering with a dragonfly’s wings. He watched as Ziggy went back to playing and how Robbie, when Ziggy’s ‘ball’ landed just out of reach, snapped his fingers and teleported it somewhere the small boy could get it himself.

Sportacus blinked a few times, but the strange feeling wouldn’t go away. He felt himself smile, the same dopey, love-struck look the Mayor sometimes got when staring at Miss Busybody.

Sportacus choked on air and cursed quietly in Elvish.

Startled by the noise, Robbie looked over the back of the bench and raised an eyebrow, but after Sportacus made a gesture to indicate he was alright, the faery turned back around with a huff and a roll of his eyes.

The _concern_ in the silvery eyes had only been visible for the fraction of a second, but it had been _there_ , as plain as a pikestaff before Robbie had hid it again behind a wall of impassiveness and disinterest.

He **_really_** did not know what to make of **_that_**.

Quenching the flicker of hope that sparkled in his chest, Sportacus made his way back to the group, a bounce in his steps.

He jumped over the wall and Robbie’s bench, earning a shocked yelp from the faery, and crossed the remaining distance to the children with a flip.

“How about we have a picnic?” As expected, they readily agreed and put away the rackets and shuttlecocks, before scurrying off to fetch food. That left Sportacus and Robbie alone. The hero shuffled from one foot to the other, knowing what he wanted to say, but not _how_ he'd best say it. Finally, he just blurted it out. "Do you want to come along too?"

He expected a flat 'no', maybe an explanation why Robbie couldn't possibly join them, but none of that came. Instead, the faery narrowed his eyes at him. "Will there be cake?"

"Yes?" Knowing the children, they'd bring along something, be it cookies or cake. If that was what it took to get Robbie to agree, then so be it. He _really_ wanted him to say yes, so much that the question felt more loaded than a simple invitation to a picnic.

Robbie shrugged and sat up. "Sure." He pointed a finger at Sportacus. "For the cake." 

It wasn't a lie, but Sportacus could tell the cake wasn't the only reason, that there was more to his agreement. It made his heart beat so fast in his chest that he was certain Robbie could hear, but the faery didn't mention it. He stood up and stretched, his back making ugly sounds of protest. "What are you staring at? Let's go."

Sportacus blushed, nodded and led the way. If their hands brushed while walking, neither of them said anything.


End file.
